


the degree of slowness

by orphan_account



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 18:41:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4887679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things get better, before they get worse, before they get better. (alternatively, Lewis and Nico through 2015)</p>
            </blockquote>





	the degree of slowness

**_Abu Dhabi, 2014_ **

 

“I was sincere, by the way.” Nico says, referring to the moment they shared in a split second decision by him; the hug, the congratulatory words, the hand on the back of Lewis’ neck and the _look_. Lewis knows. He knows. He nods in acknowledgement. He knows Nico is wondering where does that leave them, now. It’s astonishingly clear after the storm has passed.

“We should stop doing this.” Lewis says. They’re sitting on the edge of his hotel room bed, Nico’s hand resting on his knee.

“We should.” Nico agrees. They’ve been here before. It’s almost ironic, how Nico has his lips pressed to Lewis’ neck, nosing along the stubble, his jaw. Lewis thinks of Nicole coming in at any moment now, wondering what the hell took him so long to get changed. He told her once, about them; he hadn’t cheated, but he thought of it so much the guilt was swallowing him whole. She had held her head high and told him to choose, as if he ever had any power of choice to begin if, as if he wasn’t stuck between the best possible outcome and the one he _wants_ but can’t have. No one should ever feel stuck being with someone like her. Lewis wonders what the hell is wrong with him. 

“I should head back.” Lewis says.

“You should.” Nico agrees again, so passive it starts to get a rise out of him. He presses a kiss to the corner of Lewis’ jaw, and his eyes flutter shut for a moment. Nico stops, then, does the right thing by him and Nicole and himself. It’s almost friendly.

“I thought I’d be angrier at you right now.” Nico says. Lewis doesn’t know what to answer to that.

 

**_London-Monaco, january 2015_ **

 

“Happy birthday.” Nico voice sounds pleased on the end of the line, way too much for someone Lewis hasn’t talked to since Abu Dhabi. He can almost see his smile. He wasn’t expecting this one call.

“I-” Lewis can’t stop himself from saying. “I didn’t expect you to call.”

Nico chuckles on the other end of the line. “That’s what friends do, right?”

“I wouldn’t exactly classify us as friends.” Lewis murmurs detachedly, because it’s his way of handling things when it comes to Nico, recently. He’s learned from his own mistakes.

“Well,” Nico sighs, but he’s not defeated yet. “I’ve known you for longer than most people in my life.  I owe you _something_ \--” And it’s the wrong thing to say.

Lewis knows it, and Nico knows it, too, from the way he stops and the silence shifts from filled with unspoken things to uncomfortable, almost painful. He isn’t wrong, though, at least not about the first part. Lewis often chooses to ignore the fact that he hardly remembers a time in his life Nico wasn’t there, a constant, like a _mark_. It’s not right to think that Nico has marked him, that Lewis has him under his skin and it’d take years to detox him out of his system.

“You don’t _owe_ me anything,” Lewis says stiffly. “But thanks.”

****

**_Jerez, pre-season 2015_ **

 

In Jerez, there's a peace settling over their part of the track that's so unusual it feels wrong. He and Nico are amicable, friendly, they play nice for everyone and say it's in the past, they got over it. They take pictures and show off the car, and as much as it's all pretend, it's not. They're ok, or as much as possible, at least.

"You ok?" Toto asks when he pulls Lewis aside. It's almost as if he _knows_ , and the possibility is way too close to reality for Lewis to look into it. Ignorance would be a blessing for both of them. Toto's eyes shift to Nico for a second, on the other side of the paddock, talking animatedly to Paddy. _Is everything ok between the two if you?_

Lewis feels bad, because Toto and him aren't friends, they're co-workers and he's their boss, and still, he cares. It's not a question of ' _do I have to put up with another year or self destructive war_ ', but rather one of _'I saw what you did to each other and I want to know if you're both ok now'._

Lewis nods and it doesn't feel like a lie.

"It feels weird." He says. "Nico got over it pretty fast. I don't think you’ll have to worry that we'll kill each other this year."

"I ask because I worry about you, personally." Toto says.

"No, I know." Lewis says. "This is me telling you I'm fine. We're fine."

Toto doesn't seem satisfied, but he isn't one to push or pry unless it's something completely work related. He seems unconvinced Lewis being ok is intrinsically entwined with _them_ being ok. If Lewis were an outsider, he wouldn't be convinced, either. _They_ had a tendency of wanting to destroy pretty things and succeeding.

Toto nods, pats him on the back. It doesn't feel like a lie, but if feels distant from the truth.

**London, february 2015**

 

He thinks of Nicole's things everywhere and anywhere. Her shoes in his apartment in Monaco, her books still on the bedside table in his house in London.

She's not someone that waits to be loved first. She doesn't allow Lewis to try anymore, either, and he's glad for that. He doesn't know when to let go and stop hurting people.

It hurts when she leaves, but he's not proud to say it's a relief. It's a coward thing to say that she's better off without him. It doesn't mean it's not true.

**Australia 2015**

 

Nico doesn't so much as look at him after the race. Lewis tried to respect his space and let him lick his wounds in peace, but self control it's still not his forte when it comes to him.

He sprays champagne on him and smiles. _Look at me, dickhead._ Nico does, goes along, but it's so forced Lewis gives up.

"I'm gonna need you to not be an asshole to me for a while." Lewis says when they're getting towels after the podium, getting ready for team pictures. "If we want this to work."

Nico's laugh is almost cruel. "You're cute. I'm going to need you to stop being so sensitive. You know I hate losing to you. What do you want from me?"

Lewis wants to laugh. Or punch him. It doesn't feel like a victory if he's not half angry at Nico.

"You're a bitter child." Lewis says.

Nico doesn't answer that.

At night, Nico knocks on the door of his motorhome and Lewis is less surprised than he should be. He hesitates for just one moment before stepping aside to let him in. Nico, however, doesn’t give any indication that he will. He has his hands shoved on the pockets of his Mercedes jacket, as if to say _here, look, I’m not going to try anything._

“You need to let me be angry at you.” He says. Lewis rolls his eyes. “I mean it. I don’t want to go back to that place, but you need to–” He sighs, frustrated, accent slipping slightly into his voice.

“Do whatever you want. I’m tired of fighting you. I’ve been tired for a long time.” Lewis says.

“I’m not here to do that, anyway,” He shrugs. “Congratulations. On the race.”

Nico takes a step forward, and for a second, he almost thinks Nico is going to kiss him. He would’ve, before, and they would stumble inside and fight to take each other’s clothes off as fast as possible.

He doesn’t. He keeps his hands fisted inside his jacket and Lewis keeps gripping the doorframes. They look at each other for a long time before Nico leaves; there was nothing else to say.

 

**Malaysia 2015**

 

Neither of them wins in Malaysia.

After debrief, it’s Lewis’ turn to show up at Nico’s motorhome, not knowing where else to go. Nico lets him inside without a word. They don’t talk for several minutes, Lewis sits on the end of the small couch and doesn’t offer an explanation, and Nico doesn’t ask him anything, just goes about his business typing away on his laptop.  

It’s weird, in a way, to just stay in each other’s company, but it feels like something they should be doing instead of– whatever. Nico is the one that breaks the silence.

“I’m hungry,” He says. “We should go eat.”

Lewis grimaces. “I’m not really feeling the idea of grilled chicken and vegetables and mashed potatoes right now.” But follows him, nonetheless. They sit together at the Mercedes temporary restaurant, and if anyone on their crew is surprised, they’re good at hiding it. No one tries to interact with them past the respectful nods.

When they finish, Lewis wishes him goodnight and doesn’t go back with Nico.

 

**Somewhere above London, 2015**

 

They’re sitting on the small private plane provided by Mercedes – not Lewis’, even though he preferred so. His was much better.

“What are you reading?” Nico asks, pointing to the book Lewis has in hand. He turns to him so he can show him the cover. Nico smiles.

“Milan Kundera,” He snorts. “Pretentious.”

Lewis eyes him indignantly. “How is that pretentious?”

“You,” Nico shakes his head, as if he’s having a secret joke with himself. “are wearing a hat with the word DOPE on it. Reading Milan Kundera on a private plane.”

“Fuck you,” Lewis retorts, maturely. “I won this, anyway. It’s a nice read. You should try it sometimes.”

Nico, to prove a point, snaps the book from his hands, but thoughtfully marks Lewis’ page with his finger. He flips through the pages, ignoring when Lewis says _‘I didn’t mean now’_.

“The degree of slowness is directly proportional to the intensity of memory” He reads. “The degree of speed is directly proportional to the intensity of forgetting.” He stops for a few seconds, but returns Lewis his book, fingers touching as they try not to miss his page. “Like I said, pretentious.”

“It does make sense.” Lewis shrugs.

 

“I should’ve said it earlier,” Nico says after some time. “but I’m sorry about you and Nicole.” and looks like he actually meant it.

(Later, Lewis reads, _‘Love is by definition an unmerited gift; being loved without meriting it is the very proof of real love. [...] How much finer it is to hear: I'm crazy about you even though you're neither intelligent nor decent, even though you're a liar, an egotist, a bastard.’_ and thinks of showing it to Nico, shoving the book in his face and saying _here, you asshole, I like this one better._ He thinks of Nico, in all his cruelty, laughing it off.)

  


**China 2015**

 

Lewis and Sebastian, contrary to popular belief, aren't friends. They have actually nothing but the sport in common.

Still, there's something almost lovely about their dynamic, although that's not a word he'd use to describe either of them. It's the most sincere relationship he has with any other driver.

They don't like each other, but they're truthful about it, and there's nothing like being cruel and assholes together to bond two people. So Sebastian knows Lewis doesn't want him to win, wouldn’t lift a finger to help him whatsoever, and that much should be obvious to anyone. Sebastian's cool with it, because they don't actually like each other.

So when Nico says, ‘It’s interesting to hear from you, Lewis, that you were just thinking about yourself with the pace. That opened up the opportunity for Sebastian to try that early pit-stop to try and jump me.’, Lewis is left to wonder what the fuck is wrong with him.

“He thinks you were, what, helping me?” Sebastian pulls him aside at some point, machiavelic smirk matching his accented english. “Dense.”

“Shut up,” Lewis grimaces. “Really, shut up.”

He laughs, then, as if the whole situation is the most hilarious to him. It probably is. Sebastian is the kind of person that just wants to watch the world burn.

“I keep losing bets,” He says. “We bet on you, who’ll be the next one to attack, and I keep losing the bets because Rosberg’s got some feist in him this year and you keep sitting there all passive.”

“You bet–” Lewis starts. “Actually, you know what, I was going to say I’m surprised, but I’m not. That is the kind of shit one would do when they don’t really have aspirations to win shit so early in the season.”

Sebastian doesn’t even flinch. “I’m going to start betting on Rosberg.”

 

Lewis pushes, quite physically, Nico inside a room Mercedes reserves for exclusive, pre races interviews. He locks the door after he’s inside, Nico already up in his personal space trying to leave.

“Fucking hell–-” Lewis says, grabbing him by the arm. “Will you hear me for a fucking second?”

“I’m not particularly interested in listening to you right now, no.” Nico says, eyes zeroing in on his arm where Lewis is gripping, hard. He doesn’t let go.

“Stop being so fucking childish, I wasn’t trying to slow you down!” Lewis says, voice loud with frustration. Then, softer, “You always think I do these things to come at you when I don’t.”

“Sure, because if I did that you’d be so understanding.” Nico huffs.

“Yeah, well, for that to happen you would have to actually be in front of me for once.” Lewis says automatically, and almost winces immediately because this is not how it’s supposed to go. He lets go of Nico’s arm. “I’m not thinking of compromising your race during my own. You were not even a threat to me today for me to even think of you.”

Nico’s still close to him, as if he hasn’t noticed Lewis is not gripping his arm in a steel hold anymore. Closer than that, because Lewis can actually feel his breath and it’s not hard to notice Nico’s eyes falling to his lips. Lewis hates him for that. He knows it’s Nico’s way of saying _‘I want to hurt you back’_ if anything else.

The air shifts, then, and Nico steps away, looks pleased that Lewis gave him what he want, that he fought back. Somehow, Lewis knows it’ll be ok.

 

**Bahrain 2015**

 

“You should stop talking to the Daily Mail,” Lewis says when he and Nico are alone, running away from the heat in Mercedes’ hospitality room.

“You _would_ read the Daily Mail,” Nico retaliates.

“You said I’m annoying,” Lewis says. “Me. They called me ‘childlike’.”

“They’re not wrong.” Nico smiles, eyes closed, sitting in front of the air conditioner.

 _‘We have so much to do with each other. We karted together. We are here together.’_ Are some of his words, to be exact. Lewis is trying to sound a lot less affected by everything Nico said about him, painfully sincere.

“The guy wanted to seriously suck your brain out of your dick,” Lewis says. “Have you actually read the thing? You’re the saint married man and I’m a dumb celebrity, according to him.”

“I don’t read the Daily Mail.” Nico opens his eyes. “Why do you care, anyway?”

“I don’t.” Lewis shrugs.

Nico eyes him, suspiciously, as if he doesn’t believe Lewis doesn’t care. He can’t exactly tell him that what he took out of the article was only what Nico said about him. _‘I know exactly how he is functioning. I understand him really, really well. All his attitudes. I can tell why he is doing whatever he is doing.’_

 

Nico is third that weekend, and Lewis knows it’s taking a toll on him, the doubt that he can actually catch up, the press all over him saying he’s no real competition anymore. Lewis thinks about how relative greatness is.

He waits for Nico to show up in his motorhome. It’s past midnight when he does.

“I was wondering if you would show up.” Lewis says, even though he shouldn’t. When Nico is inside, cups the back of Lewis’ neck and kisses him. Lewis lets him. It’s not forceful, and he’s not trying to tear Lewis’ clothes off his body, he’s _hanging onto_ _him_. It’s strange, almost sweet, just a solid pressure of his lips, and they’re not even touching anywhere else when Lewis grabs his arm, but he doesn’t push him away or brings him closer.

“Sorry,” Nico says when he breaks apart.

Lewis doesn’t know what to say. “We said–”

“Yeah.” Nico cuts him off. “I know. I’m not doing– I didn’t do this because I’m angry or whatever, I just. I don’t know, I missed you, as a friend. Fuck, I know it doesn’t make it any better, but I’m not trying to get a one off or whatever.” He laughs humorlessly.

“I know.” Lewis says. He knows Nico. He thinks about saying that friends don’t just kiss each other, but he’s not really one to talk. They don’t know how to be friends and don’t know how to not be involved, either.

Nico doesn’t kiss him again, or even barely touches him, but he stays.

**Author's Note:**

> 1) what lewis is reading on the plane is actually a real citation from Kundara's book Slowness. although i don't know if lewis reads kundara, he did wear a hat with the word 'dope' on it: https://twitter.com/nico_rosberg/status/583707851891339264
> 
> 2) it's embarrassing how i used 2 articles of bullshit daily mail to write this, but here's quote post shangai where nico accused lewis of slowing him down on purpose: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sport/formulaone/article-3035537/Lewis-Hamilton-wins-Chinese-GP-ahead-Nico-Rosberg-Sebastian-Vettel-extend-lead-battle-F1-championship.html
> 
> 3) and here is completely bullshit biased towards nico article lewis complains about: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sport/formulaone/article-3045103/Nico-Rosberg-not-different-Lewis-Hamilton-feud-Mercedes-deepens-insists-friends.html
> 
> 4) the title also belongs to milan kundera, shoutout to that
> 
> 5) i'm on tumblr in case you didn't know, i'm lateralesquerdo


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